Toodler Sword

Maren, apparently bored of being stationary, had detached from Anna’s side and was now floating curiously around the mess hall. 

Even though the knights there made every effort to avoid looking at the vampire in the corner, they couldn't help but gaze at the sentient, glowing silver sword that was now hovering curiously over one man's partially consumed loaf of bread.

"What is that...?" The knight's eyes were wide with confusion and fear as he froze, his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Is that sword alive...?" Maren zipped up to the high, beamed ceiling and used her pommel to gently poke a wooden rafter before floating down to look at a tapestry that showed a great battle.

Anna sighed,”Maren,” she sent telepathically, her mental voice laced with exasperation. What, in all the heaven, are you doing?

Maren’s light pulsed cheerfully. “I’m conducting reconnaissance, Anna! Very important sword business!” she replied, her tone bright and full of self-importance.

You are three inches away from another knight’s dinner. You are a legendary weapon, not a housefly. Get back here before you give someone a heart attack.

“But Anna, this place is so fascinating!” Maren whined, zipping over to another table to get a closer look at a pewter mug. “That man’s bread was so… brown! And this cup is so… cuppy! I’m gathering tactical data on their dinnerware! It could be crucial!”

Anna took a slow, deliberate sip of the rich, calming Grandium blood. Maren. Now.

With a dejected little hum, the holy sword abandoned her “crucial” mission and floated back to hover meekly by Anna’s shoulder, leaving a hall full of very confused knights who quickly pretended they hadn't seen a thing.

Zebril watched the silent, one-sided exchange, a small, tired smile gracing her lips. She had seen Anna grip the sword’s hilt, and she saw it now hovering meekly by her shoulder.

“You two talk without speaking,” the Captain observed. She took a sip of water, “I wish my daughter could have a flying sword to keep her company at the Guild. She’d probably name it something ridiculous.”

See, Anna! Maren preened telepathically. She thinks I'm good company! I would be a WONDERFUL companion for her daughter! We could talk about boys and shiny armor!

You will do no such thing, Anna thought back, her mental voice sharp.

Out loud, she gave Zebril a wry, knowing smirk. “With all due respect, Captain, you really don’t want that.”

Zebril raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“The maintenance is a nightmare,” Anna said, her tone perfectly serious. 

“This one,” she gestured with her fork towards Maren, “complains constantly about the quality of the sharpening stones I used, insists on being polished with fine silk only from Noston twice a day, and throws a fit if she isn't the shiniest thing in the room. It’s like having a very vain, very sharp toddler.”

Zebril stared at her for a second, then a deep, genuine laugh rumbled from her chest. “A sharp toddler,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “Yes, I suppose I already have one of those. Point taken. I do not think my daughter could handle one now.”

The other knights in the hall began to relax a little when they heard Zebril's sincere laughter, which was quite uncommon. Anna took a sip of the rich blood and gave herself a small, contented smile.

Internally, however, “KYAAAAA!!! ANNA!! YOU LIED TO HER!!” Maren’s telepathic shriek was so loud Anna was surprised the goblets on the table didn’t vibrate. “I DO NOT NEED SUCH MAINTENANCE!! YOU POLISH ME WITH A REGULAR RAG! SOMETIMES! WHEN YOU REMEMBER TO! AND I HAVE NEVER ONCE COMPLAINED ABOUT THE SHARPENING STONES! YOU’RE MAKING ME SOUND SO HIGH-MAINTENANCE AND SPOILED! MNAAAAAA!”

Anna calmly took another sip, her external expression serene.

It was relatable. Now she sees you as a charmingly difficult novelty, not a divine superweapon that requires a lengthy and classified explanation.

“YOU CALLED ME A TODDLER!” Maren wailed, zipping back and forth in a tight, agitated pattern beside Anna’s head. “MY BROTHER CAELUS IS OFF SAVING KINGDOMS AND BEING ALL STOIC AND COOL, AND I’M HERE BEING COMPARED TO A SMALL HUMAN THAT DROOLS! MY REPUTATION WILL BE RUINED! THIS IS THE WORST!”

Zebril watched the exchange with an amused, knowing glint in her eyes. She couldn’t hear the words, of course, but she saw Anna’s placid mask and the way the holy sword was vibrating like an angry hornet.

“She seems to be disagreeing with your assessment,” the Captain noted dryly, nodding towards the frantic sword. “My daughter does the same thing when I tell her her room is messy. Silent treatment, but you can feel the indignation rolling off her.”

Anna let out a small, weary sigh. “She has a flair for the dramatic. You get used to it.”

Maren, in response, immediately stopped her frantic movements and began to hum. It was a loud, pointedly sorrowful, and completely off-key tune, aimed directly at Anna’s ear.

“Stop that,” Anna thought.

The humming grew louder, wobbling with melodramatic grief.

“I will use you to chop onions for the morning stew.”

The humming stopped instantly.

Zebril chuckled again, shaking her head as she pushed her chair back and stood up. “Well, ‘toddler’ or not, you two make an effective team.” She gave Anna a firm, respectful nod. “Finish your meal. My room is yours for as long as you need it. Do anything you want, get some rest, or anything, Angel of the Bloody Night.”

With that, the formidable Quartermaster left, stand up, ready to leave.

With the last of the honey cakes eaten and the goblet of blood empty, Anna stood up. Maren, still sulking, zipped silently to her side.

“Thank you for the meal, Captain,” Anna said, giving Zebril a respectful nod. “But I will leave for now. Lady Serenya told me to meet her at the Temple.”

“What?!” she exclaimed, her motherly concern instantly overriding her military composure. “The Temple of Orivaneia? But you’re a vampire. The sheer concentration of holy energy there could be dangerous for you, even if the Saint herself is waiting.”

“I’m aware of the risks,” Anna replied calmly. “She said she wants to talk face-to-face. I expect I’ll be gone for an hour or two.”

Zebril’s mind immediately jumped to logistics. “That’s a fifteen-kilometer journey from here. You can’t just walk.” Her expression turned firm, already planning in her head.

“Do you need a horse ride? I can have the stable expert prepare my own mount for you. She’s the fastest steed in the barracks. Or perhaps a carriage for discretion?”

Anna walked over to a high window, looking out at the dark spires of Frola under the moonlight. She weighed the options.

She turned back to Zebril, a confident smirk on her lips.

“A horse would be too slow,” she stated simply. “And far too conspicuous.” She tapped a finger against the windowpane. “I have my own methods of travel. They’re faster.”

Without another word, she gave Zebril a final nod of gratitude. “Thank you again, for everything.